Moments in Love: Early Days
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: A bit of delay and frustration in this version of Jane and Lisbon's romance. But crossing over is easy and hot when the time comes. This one-shot starts with a bit of story. Warning! Adult sexual situations. If you don't like that stuff, don't read this. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.


_**A/N Hat tip to tealfeatherlove on Tumblr who wanted to see shyness and sexual tension build to passion and tenderness. I guess I sort of did that. Maybe.**_

Being careful with one another was getting tiresome. Instead of returning to the Austin FBI Branch from Miami, Jane and Lisbon had been called directly from Jane's release at the TSA office to join the team for an out of town case. That had been two days ago.

Long hours and no privacy kept them apart. Neither wanted to declare their change in status to the team yet. It was too early. The chance to kiss again, to make love love for the first time, eluded them. Banked fires smoldering inside flared into mild irritability and a certain fuzzy preoccupation during work hours. Then, grumpy and taciturn by the end of the day, they roomed in arrangements determined by gender. Even a kiss goodnight was out of the question.

Lisbon regularly caught Jane staring at her from the many edges of the investigation. Face red, even sweaty, green eyes dark when he looked at her, his mouth seemed constantly too wet and he licked his lips a lot. He usually held something in front of his trousers, lowered his hands to cover or simply turned away. She returned his longing gaze and wanted him.

Lisbon didn't dare go near such a volatile Jane. She knew what he was feeling because she felt it herself. Unlike him, at least she could hide her arousal from the general public. She couldn't hide it from Jane. He sought it out. He saw the rise in the pulse at her neck, noted the hues of her skin and the dilation of her eyes when she dared to look at him. She tried not to because she would flush brightly, her breath caught in her throat.

The few times she couldn't avoid being close to him, Lisbon swore Jane was sampling her scent. What else would make him lean forward, head bowed a little, inhaling long and slow through his nose? He glanced at her with dazed, droopy eyes before he studied an opposite wall. She couldn't stop the aroused wet that soaked through her panties. A long day of that in pants or jeans . . . biology, always the victor. Jane was all man, in love and attuned to her body, almost hypersensitive. What would it be when they actually knew each other's bodies?

Running in for a quick purchase at a local shop, she found a couple skirts and some sturdy shoes that looked good with them. At least her thin panties would have a chance to dry between soakings, hidden under the skirt instead of adding another layer of material to the open damp! She started wearing perfume to work. Jane peeked at her legs constantly, and complimented her perfume with a wink but, after several test snuffles, he had stopped trying to pick up her scent. Lisbon had never needed to make these kinds of work adjustments before.

It didn't stop their lust for one another. Once on an elevator, shifting places to allow more people to board, he had brushed her leg as he turned. She felt his arousal as a low moan escaped his throat and he quickly backed away, clasping his hands loosely over himself. Desire shot through her like a rocket and, knowing it could not be fulfilled, her eyes watered in grief. When she looked at Jane with imploring eyes, he smiled wanly, and nodded. He was suffering, too.

Later, Lisbon caught a minute to try to talk with him.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, yeah. I'm fine." It wasn't the time to tell her he could feel her heat, feel her body burn when she was near him. Or thank her for wearing skirts and perfume because her damp scent made his rut nearly uncontrollable. He settled for, "Are you okay?"

"No." Why didn't he just nip off to the bathroom to work things off? For the same reason she didn't. They were saving themselves for each other. Who could have predicted so much delay?

They left it at that and hoped the case would be over soon.

In four more days, they solved the murder and returned to Austin. But a habit of distance during the long case had instilled a delicate shyness and caution with one another. Their one kiss seemed long ago and far away. It was just like Jane to lapse into the status quo. And just like Lisbon to wait until he was ready. Theirs was an old, easily reinstituted pattern. While it had served them shakily for the years it had taken to bring down Red John, now it was more of a neurotic dance in red shoes. It kept them whirling in place although neither of them wanted to continue. Yet both were too shy to make the first move in passion.

At times, Lisbon grew restless, feeling it was Jane's place to make a physical advance. Then she would counter herself. Why? Because he's a man and a man should make the first move? He had. He'd made a huge move on that airplane. And sealed his feelings and intent with that exploring kiss. Well, it had started out tentative and exploring, but then what lip-lock! It had felt so good, his mouth warm and soft, gently demanding. Her response had been eager and insistent, but necessarily brief. It had not been the time or setting for further exploration.

Jane was hanging back and he knew it. The landscape of his life was about to shift unrecognizably. Again. He'd lost his family. He'd hunted and killed Red John. He'd fled to exile and then returned. Change had exhausted him at the worst time, had almost caused him to lose what he wanted more than anything. Teresa as a woman, mate and partner. He had drawn her close in the terror of losing her. She wanted the changes he'd made. She wanted him. He would have to let go and trust that. All he needed to do was reach out.

You could make the next move, Lisbon told herself. Then she would counter, but what if he's hanging back because he's not ready? Ire would rise with panic. What they had just been through, what they had put each other through, didn't it culminate in declarations of readiness for each other? Stalemate. They were at stalemate again! They had been back two days and had only seen each other at work! Lisbon was frustrated beyond words, constantly wet, and rubbing what felt like two peach halves between her legs when she walked. And Jane was still hiding his stiffies!

Florida was not the right time or place! The case was not the right time or place! It seemed that back home was not the time or place either! They were cowards.

But it wasn't quite true. Before—when they were _not_ ready—they didn't pass each other in the bullpen with smoldering looks and blushing faces. They hadn't mined every excuse to let their fingers touch or their bodies bump— linger in those touches. And then create more excuses to touch. Many times before, Jane had put his hand protectively near her lower back, guiding her. But he had never rested it there, making hand-shaped warmth that she felt through her clothes, rubbing absently and lighting her like sparklers. And she had never found excuses to pat his knee, touch his wrist with her fingers or hold his arm up to check his watch.

Their third day back was a quiet one and they left a little early. Jane stopped Lisbon in the parking lot. A silly smile wobbled on his face. Reaching out was so easy, after all!

"Teresa. It's Friday night. Come get some dinner with me."

Her smile was broad and made her green eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight. "I'd like that very much."

Jane's return smile was just as delighted, and they both sighed, feeling their connection open without obstacle.

"My car or your truck, Jane?"

The look he gave her went far beyond mischievous all the way to wicked. Draping his hand on her lower back, he moved in close and bent to her ear. "That depends on what you want for afters." He let his lips swipe across her cheek as he straightened.

Lisbon flushed the color of raspberries, breathless as he shifted his hand to her hip, keeping her steady. Moving in front of her, he chucked her chin up to look into her darkened eyes. "If you want fast and hard, I suggest the Airstream and we'll take my truck."

She swallowed and kept looking at him.

"Or, if you want long and slow, we can go to your house and your big soft bed. We can take your car."

"Your truck," she said quickly. "We've waited too long already. And I think we should get drive-thru."

"Mmmm, Teresa, you know how to make me feel wanted."

"Open your truck and let's go."

The take-out bag sat on the little kitchen table, cooling, but neither of them gave it a thought.

Kissing while waiting for the food escalated in frequency and passion. Jane felt her breasts over her clothes, grunting as he tested them in his palm and fingers, tweaking the nipples through layers of clothing. Lisbon tried to keep one eye out for the returning window clerk, pushing his shoulders away when she caught movement. It was a false alarm, but she kept him at bay when she sought his lips again and put her hand between his legs. She found his hard erection on its side, pointing towards her and rolled it down his leg so that she could stroke its full length. Jane let go of the kiss, pumping air like a freight train, then leaned back to let her fondle him to near madness.

The take-out window slid open and someone cleared her throat. It seemed far away as they kissed again. It was louder the second time, almost in the car with them. They jumped and Jane gently slid her hand away to get the wallet from his pocket. They tried to compose themselves, but it was already too late and they pulled away without comment after the transaction. Lisbon giggled like a schoolgirl, squeaking and straining for breath as she laughed.

"I've never seen your face so red, Jane!"

He started to chuckle. "We were practically having intercourse in the car at a drive-thru! You were right. We _have_ waited too long already!"

"I think our inner teenagers burst through!"

"It did feel like my younger years when I'd bare my dick for any filly that asked." Then he spoke in a teenaged boy's breaking voice. "At the drive-thru? Sure, honey, let me get it out for you."

"Patrick! Filly?" She started laughing again.

"What? I think you've seen a little back seat action in your time. You're wicked! That's a hot little nature you've got there!"

"Hot for you! Not for any young stud!"

"And I'm only hot for you." He eyed her boldly and ran his hand up her skirt, speaking softly as he watched the road and wiggled his fingers in dampness.

She kept her legs closed and he settled to petting her plump flesh. If he got his fingers on her clit, she'd be off in seconds!

"You know, our first time I wanted to peel you slowly from your clothes, let my eyes take their fill of you, completely naked, slowly learn each other, not just run myself into you under your skirt."

"We can learn each other the second time, can't we, Jane?" Her voice was earnest and her eyes pleading. "But I want to give you your heart's desire."

"You are my heart's desire. And I want what you want." He gave a low growl, filled with desire. "Take me hard, Teresa, against the wall. I just want you to come like gangbusters. I don't think we can wait any longer without frustrating each other so bad we'll start biting."

She gave him the Cheshire Cat's grin, her eyes squinted nearly shut. "If you don't take me against the nearest wall, I _will_ bite you!"

Picking up her hand, he nipped her fingers and she gasped as she jerked them back. "Drive, Jane!"

Finding the nearest open wall in the Airstream was not easy. But the refrigerator was perfect. Groaning into each other's mouths, they started to unbutton or remove the necessities in the few paces from the door. They opened their shirts. Teresa unfastened and unzipped his pants while Patrick reached behind to undo her bra. He pulled the cups up, said, "Oh, god," and stuffed his roving mouth with them. She tried to make enough room to pull his pants down, but he suckled her insistently, backing her against the refrigerator with one hand in the center of her chest, letting go when he knew she would stay there. He took down his pants and briefs, letting them slide to his knees as his heavy cock sprang free, its head like a plum.

"Oh, Patrick!" Teresa moved toward him, hands reaching.

His soft words stopped her. "Your hands on me there . . . now . . . I won't be able to hold back. I want to be inside you when I come."

Her green eyes were round, with a far-away look. Patrick Jane, fucking her. Coming inside her. Snapping into focus, Teresa looked into Patrick's eyes, ravenous for him. Her hungry mouth met his as she attempted to devour him. He pinned her with one hand again and used the other to raise her skirt, tucking the hem into the waist. He gazed at her slim, restless legs, shifting a silky veil of lace-edged pale green that covered her female flesh. "Are you very fond of these panties?"

Not at the moment. "No. Rip them off."

He tore the crotch and pulled the ends out of the way. Positioning himself at her opening, he filled his hands with her ass, lifted and held her at eye level, then bore into her.

Lisbon's legs flailed until he held her bottom secure in his hands, her back pressed against the refrigerator. She pegged her feet on his hips. Pushing deep inside forced her thighs wide and he angled her hips to glide deep, tight against him. Excited, feeling every inch of him as he moved in her, a climax built immediately and she used her considerable strength to push into his thrusts. They lifted the front feet of the refrigerator and let it bang to the floor repeatedly. The sound seemed to drive Patrick to a frenzy, grunting forcefully with every thrust as he increased his speed.

Lisbon squealed, high and surprised as if Patrick had goosed her deep. She continued to meet his thrusts, prolonging the spasms, all instinct as an orgasm surged through her, until Patrick growled deep in his chest and half screamed his own climax.

Pressing against the refrigerator held them up as they cooled and recovered, still connected and throbbing as one, listening to the tap of their juices hitting the floor.

Lisbon finally slid away, testing whether her legs could carry her, then putting her clothes into better order. "Let me go clean up real quick."

Jane pulled his pants back up. "The shower head detaches. Can I watch? Then I can tidy myself up after you've finished."

"You want to watch me wash."

"Too much too soon? You want me to wash you?" He smiled. "You have no idea what a lech I am, Teresa. Hey. I'm a man in love, passionate love. I'm not reining everything in for the celibate life I led before."

"Good. I understand you perfectly." Her face was relaxed, a smile playing at her lips. She was the luckiest woman in the world! "Because I feel the same way."

He moved to take her hand but she ran hers gently down his arm, not speaking. When he saw her face lift to him, he bent to receive her kiss on his cheek.

"I need food. And I'm looking forward to our second time."

Blushing as he kissed her cheek, Patrick stepped out of her way.

They ate and retired to explore one another slowly all night long. They didn't need such a big bed after all.

Throughout the next couple weeks, Teresa learned the incredible depth and breadth of Patrick's sexual nature. She had never been so tired, happy and satisfied, in her life. She was in peak condition, toned everywhere, and so was Patrick, sleek and strong as a panther. It would be obvious to anyone that here were a man and woman getting regular vigorous sex. Discretion appeared to be the watchword on the team and the obvious was not mentioned.

Patrick watched Teresa open up, her needs flowing from the depths of an adventurous, passionate sexuality. They were well-suited to one another. But Patrick needed more time to adjust to having his irresistible sexual partner, the love of his new life, near him all day at work while unable to engage her as his impulses led him. Teresa was as affected but, having nothing to jut and show but the occasional nipple, she fared well.

Jane's tight fitting trousers were a different story.

Lisbon quietly chastised him. "Get a grip, Jane. We're at work. Someone's going to see that. You think I don't get horny ten times a day, too? When did you give up on, on your biofeedback stuff?"

"Biofeedback techniques are not going to work as a constant state of being. It's exhausting to manage what I already have. I haven't been in a relationship like this."

"What are you talking about? You've been married!"

"We didn't have more than a decade of suppressed sexuality suddenly released and allowed expression. We weren't together most of the day."

"Maybe we shouldn't work together anymore."

He looked at her sharply, angry. "Or, I could buy looser pants or something."

A withering glare became a guffaw. "That wouldn't stop you. You'd just have more room to get bigger!"

"Come back to me when your arousal shows against your will, Lisbon. Until then, it would help if you just assumed I was doing the best I could. Cut me some slack." His expression softened and he smirked. "And look for places to satisfy our drives. This won't last forever. Let's not miss a minute of it."

"Hey! What do you mean, it won't last forever?"

"Okay. It will last forever. That makes it even more imperative for you to give me time to figure out how to get this under control. And find lots of trysting places in this damn fishbowl!"

"You are out of control!" Lisbon threw up her arms and rumbled in exasperation as she turned to walk away.

"Wait." He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the corner for a deep kiss, leading with his tongue.

She sucked on his warm flesh as if she needed it to live, molding to his body for a few mindless moments before she broke away and stepped back, catching her breath. "Jane!"

He stepped toward her, his hand reaching.

"Jane. No. You can't do this to me. I love you. And we have to wait. We have to be professional at work."

"I know. I'm trying so hard. Do you believe me? I'm not being careless."

"I believe you. I believe you, Jane. Do you believe that I want you just as much, all day long?" Her face was dewy with heat, cheeks bright, blazing green eyes focused on him.

"Yes. I believe you."

"Then you have to help me. I need your help to keep it together at work, in public."

Pleading with him now, Lisbon's teeth gripped her bottom lip so ferociously that Jane was afraid she'd cut it. He ran a thumb lightly over them, just once. "Don't. Shhhh. Relax. I'll behave. I will."

"Think about when we get home. How free we are together. How we'll love each other as much as we want. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Just focus on that, and I will, too." Eyes glittering with blood heat, her voice sultry, she whispered. "I'm thinking what I'm going to do with you right now." She smiled, winked and turned away.

"When we get home." Breathing into relaxation, Jane straightened his clothes and headed for the bullpen.

The atmosphere between them seemed to normalize enough for each to manage, coping by nursing thoughts of hearth and home. And bed. And the opportunity to ravage. Having to work until about seven, they brought home salads for supper. There was no dessert in the house and they wanted something sweet before turning in and to each other.

The night was warm and humid, just gone dark and starless under cloud. Breezes made it bearable. They decided to go for ice cream at their favorite mom and pop soft-serve close by, barely making it before closing time.

"Let me drive your truck!"

Jane looked at her skeptically.

Lisbon pouted. "Come on. It's just a few blocks."

Fishing the keys from a pocket, he jangled them in front of her and she took them. "A quick seat adjust and we're on our way!" She kissed the air in his direction.

Not wanting to drive and eat, they sat in the open truck, angled to catch the breeze. The business and parking lot suddenly went dark and the mom and pop waved to the couple as they drove home for the night.

Lisbon finished her child's cone, quick and neat, then waited on Patrick with his large dip cone. While the chocolate shell kept the treat outwardly intact, inside it was melting faster than the shell softened. Patrick slurped the melt from the bitten down curl at the top until the shell suddenly separated from the rim of the cone. Vanilla cream dripped out faster than Patrick could suck it in or lick it up. The faster he tried, the messier the cone and his hand became, his abandoned slurping wet and noisy.

Teresa watched from the driver's side. His broad, thick tongue sweeping the edge of the cone, chasing the cream that drifted down his fingers. His sticky lips, darkened with chocolate that smeared him as if a child had applied lipstick. His mesmerizing, nearly prehensile mouth that worked around the lip of the cone, seeking the soft, melty places, trying to suck and clean them. The chocolate shell seemed to float and drift over the sweet melting liquid, forcing him to open the top more and suck out what he could.

Why had she never noticed how he ate an ice cream cone? She'd certainly seen him eat enough of them. Not as messy as this one, of course. Probably she'd forced herself to turn away from the forbidden sight. That barrier was broken. Driven by a surge of lust, she scooted across the bench seat and, placing a hand on his thigh, steadied his arm to lick his fingers.

Patrick was licking on the other side of the cone, eyes closed to concentrate on the taste and texture, when he felt Teresa's warm little tongue on his fingers. He opened his eyes and lifted his head in fascination to watch her lick him. Sliding her tongue down each long finger, she ended each stroke by sucking his fingertips. Her mouth still working, she turned her eyes to his and caught his hot gaze. Taking his rolled-up sleeve, she pulled the cone back to her lips when he let it drift to look at her.

By this time, the sweet liquid had softened the bottom edges of the cone. Milky buds gathered like raindrops and she tried to suck them off, but the cone was soaked and went into her mouth with the cream. She bit and sucked but it was not enough to stem the tide of what was dammed behind the cone. It poured down her chin and onto Patrick's pants.

"Mmp! Mmp!" Teresa's brows furrowed as she made insistent noises, mouth still on the cone, trying to get Patrick to help.

He jumped from his total concentration on the sight of the woman he loved, sucking his ice cream and his hand. "Oh . . . oh!"

Bending to the demolished shell, a lump of melting vanilla cream deep in its crater, he closed his mouth over the opening and sucked hard. Now they were sucking the cone together, attempting to vacuum the liquid contents from both ends. The cone collapsed, pieces falling onto Patrick as they both tried to catch chunks of chocolate, breaks of cone and an evasive blob of ice cream with limited success. Lisbon saved the chocolate and slipped it, melting, through each of their lips by turns. They tossed what they could of the rest out the open window.

Teresa began to pick at his trousers, tossing stray bits away, lingering on the hardened length of flesh her fingers found, petting to watch it rise and fall under the material. "You're a mess here."

"I know. I need cleaning." He smiled through breathy lips, cheeks warm and bright from the hot night, crested now by his own passionate fire.

"Let me." Slowly unbuttoning his pants, she pulled down the zipper. He lifted his hips so that she could lower his clothing and get at the column of flesh that sprang free. Her mouth was on him before he could take his next breath. And both hands wrapped around him before the breath after that.

Throwing his head back, he opened his mouth and groaned with the abandon she instilled, free to be loud in the empty parking lot. She held nothing back of her enthusiasm and greed for his flesh. His impulse was to let go at the first opportunity and fill her mouth, but she pulled away, sitting up to study his face as his chest heaved. Finally he turned to look at her.

She spoke urgently. "We need to get home." Intense unmet want throbbed between her legs. Her only thought was the need to rut, naked and free in their bed.

As soon as she lifted her bottom to scoot back to the wheel, he swept an arm underneath her, anchoring it around her waist and using her own momentum to tug her to her back, feet still hanging off the seat.

He loosened Teresa's clothes and pulled them below her knees. She wished he would rip them off. Her swollen flesh glistened in the ambient light as she opened her thighs, bound at the knees by her pants, and laid her fingers in the wet. Pulling his own clothing further down his legs, he gently slid her hand away and, palming his rigid flesh, slipped two fingers inside her.

Lifting her hips immediately, Teresa began to ride his fingers, moaning and shoving hard. "Now! Now, Jane." Her breath was a small bellows, heaving her breasts.

Pulling his fingers from the slippery heat where they were buried, he slid both hands under her bra, pushing it up and out of his way. Kneading and caressing, pulling the erect nipples made him desperate. In the shelter of the car, the scent of their aroused, sweaty bodies in the heat of the night drove them to near sensual insanity.

"Jane!" She shouted it in command.

In answer, he shoved into her, as hard as the lust in his eyes.

She closed hers and groaned, "Oooohhh, yes." Then softer, riding her breath each time Jane thrust, she exhaled, "Fuck me. Fuck me . . . fuck me . . . fuck me."

Her words fed his lust. Patrick pumped steel into flesh so soft and tight, so hot, textured like heaven, that he felt his mind snap away, letting his body soak in the pleasure Teresa gave him. The build of release flooded his groin and boiled up his spine, burning even the muscles of his jaw.

Teresa's rhythmic cries were in his ear, "Oh. Oh. Oh," until they softened into musical little grunts, full of breath when she came. Relaxation circulated with her blood, turning her whole body limp as jelly.

Release forced Patrick's jaws open in a shout, his hips jamming against her over and over, shooting jet after jet until he was empty. They were soaked with perspiration and each other in a denouement of sloppy wet kisses and whispered confirmations of love.

When they sat up and straightened their clothing, Lisbon flopped against the seat back with an exhausted huff. "Patrick?"

"Hmm?" A little dazed.

"Are you able to drive? I'm not sure my arms and legs are under my control yet."

He snorted and broke into a smug grin, turning to her. "Sure."

She rolled her eyes.

He got out of the car and stumbled, steadying himself on the lip of the open window. When he looked sheepishly at Teresa, she was the one with the smug smile.

They shuffled up the walk to the house, loose and relaxed as if returning from a run. They'd forgotten to turn on the porch light, so entering the house and switching the light in the entryway allowed their first sight of each other. They both bent over, pointing, unable to speak for laughing.

"Mirror!" Jane managed, and they hurried to the wide full-length mirror on the large, sliding bedroom closet door.

Hair wild, both of their faces were smeared with chocolate, red kiss-worn lips accented by the dark smudges and streaks. The lap of Jane's pants looked like they had been finger-painting there. Chocolate and sticky cream had transferred to Lisbon's pants and dark, sticky finger marks were on both their shirts. When they shed their clothing, Lisbon found chocolate smears along her entire torso, on her breasts, inside the cups of her bra and on the inside of her thighs. Jane found chocolate at the base of his dick and the front of his balls. Spots of chocolate and cream stuck their shirts to their backs.

Jane pulled his phone from a pocket and snapped them smiling giddily into the mirror, Lisbon's arm around his waist and his arm across her shoulder. It was their first naked selfie together and Jane texted it to her phone. They looked like two naughty kids who'd been making mud pies.

"We need a shower." Lisbon looked at him while the laughter she tried to hold in slipped through her tight lips, making rude sounds.

"Can we do a bath? I don't want to stand up that long."

"Okay. But nice, relaxing bathing. No humping the water out of the tub. Unless you want to clean it up."

"Thank you for the caveat." He settled a soft kiss on her lips. "You, who squeals with your legs in the air while I hump the water out of the tub until you're calling God and all his angels."

"Stop . . ." She giggled for a few moments. "I do not do that."

"Oh. I forget. Humping you to delirium gives you amnesia for what you say and do."

"That's my story. And stop saying 'humping.' It's making me horny again."

"Oh, no you don't," he chanted. "Relaxing bath. No humping. And then our nice, cozy bed. To sleep in, my horny little mate."

Before they could leave the tub, Jane found Lisbon lying on her back on top of him, scooting up so that she could lay his hands between her legs. "Rub me."

"I'll have to remember that 'humping' is one of your trigger words." Starting with both hands in her soft flesh, when she was ready, he moved a hand to her breast, nudging the pliant globe and sliding his fingers across the nipple. With the other hand, he fingered her clit, finishing her off with two slippery fingers vigorously sliding over it, up and down until she came.

Completely relaxed, Lisbon collapsed into bed and fell asleep. She didn't bother to wear panties to sleep anymore. However grumpy she was of a morning, more often than not Jane, waking with burning wood, found a way to make morning sex a pleasure. No panties worked better for her mood. Though she often wore sexy panties to bed, especially with matching lingerie, they excited Jane so much he would toy with them, and with her, until they were having bonfire sex. She was learning his triggers, too.

When Jane joined her, he shifted her limp weight into their favorite starting sleep position, her ear over his heart with his arm supporting her back, his hand resting on her hip. Releasing a deep sigh of satisfaction, he pulled the covers close and dropped into a dreamless sleep.

When he awoke before dawn, Lisbon was splayed across the top of his body and the soft light of the moon illuminated her pale skin. She must have gotten too cool in the night and crawled on top of him rather than wake enough to find and pull the edge of the comforter over herself. It was one of the joys of life with her. They were like puppies, always snuggling together and sometimes in the most comical and outrageous positions as they slept, seeking and giving warmth and comfort.

Jane was hard, enjoying the softness of Teresa's breasts and belly, loath to disturb her. Her favorite style of morning sex was not waking for it until the end. Actually, it was a tie between that and being woken fully grumpy and given sex rough enough to make it a pleasure. Pulling the sheet away, he took a minute to look at her gorgeous nude body, the sensuous slope of her ass breaking into twin moonlit hills. Almost imperceptibly, he set his hands softly on her bottom, fitting them around the yielding globes for a slow caress. She didn't stir. Sleeping sex it would be.

Rolling them gently to their sides, he set her leg on his hip and slipped a finger softly inside to be sure of her moisture. Not quite. He reached under his pillow and retrieved a small bottle of lube, accidently pushing a condom packet over the edge of the mattress. He heard it drop, joining what must be a small pile on the floor at the head of the bed. At least they would always have a reserve stash. They only used condoms for specific, infrequent activities anyway.

His slide inside her was effortless, the sudden warmth always so welcome. Moving slowly, his excitement built, watching her cheeks become a brighter pink, waiting for the moment that her eyes would flutter open, surprise and pleasure in her face and a moan on her lips. Then he moved deeper and faster, kissing her good morning. Her return kiss was passionate and her hips began to move in his rhythm.

"Patrick," she moaned.

"Teresa. You feel so good. How close are you?"

"Close. Can I be on top?"

"I'd love that." He rolled them, holding her hips to keep them connected.

"Oooohhhh, that's nice." She sank onto him, leaned back and braced her hands on his thighs, sighing as she rode him with fluid hips, filling her depths.

Propping on his elbows, he watched her move, watched himself slide in and out of her stretched sex, the button of her clitoris shining and out of its hood. Further up her arched form, her breasts bounced with the movement of her hips. The tips of her long hair tickled his legs as his body filled with the liquid heat she kindled. Her cries were already high with an approaching climax.

He thumbed her and she hollered, curling forward and changing the angle of her ride. Jane moved his hands to her breasts, holding them and rolling the tips, hard. Then he raised his head and shoulders to kiss her. She met him and they were lost in a sensuous swirl of lips and hips and tongues when she came, breaking the kiss. Hands pressed against his chest to push herself deep onto his cock, shimmying as she contracted inside, she triggered his release. He stroked her back until they had recovered.

"Is it time to get up, Jane?"

"No. We've got a couple hours before breakfast. And it's Saturday. You can sleep as long as you like." He shifted to his side and reached an arm for her. "Spoon me? You can sleep some more."

"You, too?"

"You never know."

"Yes, I do. You'll get up after I fall back to sleep."

"Shhhhhh. Don't worry about that. I'm here."

He helped her snuggle in and feather-kissed her shoulders until her breathing became deep and slow. Quietly, he left their bed and went to the kitchen for a cup of tea, starting Lisbon's brew. The night sky glowed softly at its east rim and Patrick took his steaming tea to a chair on the front porch to watch a glorious sunrise.

After breakfast, he watched her in the kitchen, padding in bare feet as she cleaned up. She wore red bikini panties and a heather red middy tee, torn instead of hemmed, the knit rolled. Her boobs held the shirt away from her chest, fresh air rolling underneath. Was it a warm front? A cool front? Jane would like to know. If he went by the state of her nipples, he'd say, cool.

"You're watching me, Patrick," she called, not at all offended.

"You're quite fetching, Teresa."

"Fetching."

"You entice me." His eyes shifted to her ass, where her activity in the red panties had shifted them to cut into the cleft, baring half of one cheek and the other entirely. The flesh reverberated, shimmering but not flabby enough to shake as she walked.

"You had me before the sun came up."

"You were on top of me. The moon was shining on you, lighting your naked form. I couldn't resist."

"You pulled the sheet off of me again, to look while I was sleeping."

A trap. Be bold, Jane. "Of course."

"And it had nothing to do with that enormous boner you sport every morning?"

"You mean the one you like me to shove into your slick little pussy every morning?"

"That's the one."

"Well, I may have a hard on every morning, but you have a wet-on."

She draped the damp kitchen towel on the rack and stepped out of the kitchen to look at him. "Touché."

He smiled at her from the armchair and puckered a kiss at her.

"You've conditioned me. Like Pavlov's dog."

He patted his crossed legs and said softly, "Here, girl."

Making him wait a moment, she stood and stretched, her arms reaching high, the rounds of her breasts peeking out until she brought them down. She cupped her breasts from underneath, adjusting herself somehow. Patrick could have sworn that she gave them a squeeze. Then she adjusted her panties in the back, rolling her fingers under the elastic to adjust the front, too, straddling her legs to give her hands room.

"Now, that's just cruel."

"As if I'll have my clothes on much longer."

"As if," he agreed.

Satisfied with her little show of power, she crossed the living room and sat on his lap, squirming to get comfortable while feeling for the stiffening cock she knew was couched below his elevated thigh. He shifted to satisfy her obvious curiosity and made room on his lap, now with both feet on the floor. His hard flesh pressed where she was soft, just where she wanted him. She wished they were naked and she could just sit on his cock, shove him deep and ride him.

Patrick's posture was open, relaxed, as he settled his arms wide to the arms of the chair, letting Teresa have her head. She began to unbutton his shirt, just enough to slip her hand comfortably underneath. She'd have to unbutton him more to reach his sensitive stomach. She finger-feathered his nipples instead, feeling him flinch under her hand at the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

"You're seducing me."

"I hope so."

His textures thrilled her. Smooth skin, patches of hair, his tiny BB nipples, the shallow bumps of his ribs. Her small hands rode where they curved to his back and then turned up to stroke his armpit and toy with its fuzzy hair. Fingers to her nose, she looked at him and snuffled, her eyes rolling back at the pleasant complexity of his scent there, damp now but something clean from his shower and something oily, tangy that was all Jane.

She felt his lips on her forehead and his stiffening flesh went hard beneath her. His breath turned hot on her neck and she unbuttoned the rest of his shirt to lightly scrape his quivering stomach with her nails. Quickly undoing his trousers, she lifted her body and balanced on the chair arms until he took everything down, let his clothes drop to his feet and adjusted himself so that his balls were not in a thigh-vise.

Teresa kissed him in passing as she turned to have him pull her panties down. She lifted a leg, balancing her hands on his knees. "Take them off," she panted.

The view of her bottom as she maneuvered to let him remove her panties nearly did him in. Lowering her shoulders until her breasts squashed on his legs tilted her bottom high and exposed her wet core, an invitation. Patrick grabbed her hips and filled his mouth with her, licking and tonguing, sucking her ravenously, his nose squashing into the cleft of her ass. He kneaded the cheeks, stretching and squeezing her flesh like putty. When she found her balance, pushing lustily against his face, he moved his hands to her breasts, thumbing the sides, squashing them in his palms and squeezing the nipples between his fingers.

Then she squatted, feet on either side of his thighs, and he lodged the head of his penis at the mouth of her sex, shouting when she lowered her hips to push him inside. He lovingly scratched the ultra-sensitive flesh at the top of her fanny. Screaming as she tried to manage the thrill and keep him seated inside, her movements became wild, determined, and she rode him, trying to satisfy the intense need for satisfaction he created.

"You feel so good, so good, Teresa . . . I can't breathe." He slouched to make more room for her bottom to sluice him.

"Hold me steady. I don't know where this is going."

"You will in a minute!" He groaned as if in pain and twisted a little. Grabbing her hips again, he pushed her hard at every down stroke. Then, restraining her hips, he held them up as he rolled the plump head of his cock in and out of her, lips stretched wide, sucking the tip of his rigid shaft. The sensation left him open-mouthed and gasping, trying to hang on as his nerve endings began to fry. Her body held this way, he could see his balls rise, preparing for orgasm. He was so ready. He released her, freeing his fingers back to the sensitive triangle of flesh, scratching lightly with his nails.

She gave a little roar through clenched jaws, a sign of her attempt to maintain control. But her hips began to twist and plunge with deep purpose. Her feet were wedged at either side of his knees by that time, her back arched to maximize the power of her thrusts at the angle she needed. After a few more of his shoves, she felt her core quicken and she simply sat on him while he pushed himself deep, grinding her hips onto him and sloshing them all around in a tempest of approaching orgasm.

"Oh, god . . . Jane! I'm coming . . . I'm coming. Oh! It's so good . . ." She ground down on him, her back arching so tight that her head tapped against his face. The orgasm blew her as high as a kite, joy with every tingling spasm.

Patrick had climaxed before she ever knew. He pulsed into a squeeze of quivering, squashy heat, listening to her cries and calling into her ear, "Oh god, oh god, oh god," hands gripping her breasts as he shot jet after jet until they were both soaking in his juices. In a moment, sliding from their connection, she turned sideways on his lap. Patrick held her close, voice full of emotion. "I adore you, Teresa. You're my dream. I'll cherish you forever."

"I know. Everything you do tells me. You're my one true love, Patrick, my only love." Resting her ear over his heart, she treasured the warm arms that encircled her, snuggling tight.

He lifted them from the chair. Still slick and ruddy, rivulets of their juices ran to his knees as more dripped from the head of his relaxing erection. No sense ruining the armchair. Reluctant to let go, he pulled her back to his chest and soothed himself by gently massaging her breasts as she slumped against him, her hands over his.

Before long, she sighed and stepped away. "I have to lie down."

"Make room for me."

It wasn't yet noon on that Saturday morning.


End file.
